


Negotiations and Love Songs

by jdrush



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: AU, And regrets, F/M, Forgiveness, Kinda, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mending Bridges, Prequel, a bit of angst, a bit of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdrush/pseuds/jdrush
Summary: Al is coming for a visit.  Beth is anxious; Dirk is REALLY pissed off.
Relationships: Al Calavicci/Beth Calavicci, Beth Calavicci/other, Sam Beckett/Al Calavicci
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Negotiations and Love Songs

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: QL belongs to Bellisaurius Productions, NBC, and MCA/Universal.  
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm currently uploading some of my old stories to AO3. This story first appeared in the fanzine, "Variations on a Theme", October, 2000. The challenge was to use the lyrics from the song, "The One You Love" by Glenn Frey somewhere in the story. This is what I came up with. (Oh, and the title was stolen . . . ahhh, BORROWED . . . from Paul Simon.)

**"What you gonna say, when he comes over,**   
**There's no easy way to see this through,**   
**All the broken dreams, all the disappointments,**   
**Oh, girl, what you gonna do?**   
**Your heart keeps saying it's just not fair,**   
**But still you've got to make up your mind . . . ." 1**

**April 16, 1986**  
  
"I can't believe you invited him over!"  
  
"What was I supposed to do?"  
  
"Tell him to jump in a lake!"  
  
"Honey, please . . . can you hand me my pearls?"  
  
"PEARLS! Are you kidding me?!"  
  
"They go with this dress."  
  
"Looks like you're heading off to Buckingham Palace, for Christ's sake!"  
  
"I want to look nice," I explained, adding my pearl cluster earrings to the ensemble.  
  
"Why?!" he demanded.  
  
"Because . . . ."  
  
"Because . . . you're still in love him."  
  
"Really, Dirk – that was over years ago."  
  
"Bullshit!" he hissed.  
  
"Watch your language. Kristen may hear."  
  
Lowing his voice, he grumbled, "Beth, I don't want him in this house. Remember the last time he was here? He smashed your grandmother's heirloom crystal platter."  
  
I gave a slight shudder, remembering that beautiful broken plate. "He was drunk," I explained.  
  
"And that's an excuse?"  
  
Shaking my head, I started, "No, it's just . . . ."  
  
"It's just that the guy is a menace," he interrupted. "Always has been, always will be. The man should be locked up."  
  
I spun on him, and shot back, bitterly, "He was. For six years, in a POW camp. Remember?"  
  
"How could I forget?" he retorted, sarcastically. "He throws it back in our faces every chance he gets."  
  
"As well he should." By now, my voice had risen to match his.  
  
"What are you saying? That you should have waited for him? That you're sorry you married me?"  
  
"NO!" I answered, defensively. "God, I HATE when you get like this!"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
I grabbed up my hairbrush, and started to furiously pull it through my tresses. "You're jealous of him."  
  
"Well, of COURSE I am! Why shouldn't I be? You still have feelings for him."  
  
I slammed down my brush, and glared at my husband. "Yes. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? He was my husband, Dirk. I loved him enough to marry him at one time. And it almost killed me to have him declared dead." I took a deep, steadying breath, and whispered, angrily, "So excuse me if I still have some feelings for him."  
  
He plopped down on the bed, stunned by my outburst. In the 15 plus years Dirk and I had been married, I never spoke of Al that way. Maybe, until that moment, I never had admitted it to myself. "And where does that leave us?"  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Dirk, don't get overdramatic," I scoffed, as I reached behind and zipped up my dress. "He asked to come over to talk. That's all. He said he had something important to say to me."  
  
"Why couldn't he say it over the phone?"  
  
"Because he wanted to see me. I wasn't going to deny him that."  
  
"So that you could see him, too," he stated, knowingly.  
  
I touched up my lipstick, and blotted it carefully. "Is that wrong? That I would want to see him again after all these years? Look, if this is going to bother you so much, you could go out and get some milk or something."  
  
"What? And leave him alone with you and Kristen? No way. I'd probably come back to one of those murder/suicide things."  
  
"He could just as easily take you out, too, if you stay."  
  
"Not funny, Beth. I'm staying."  
  
"Fine. Just don't be a nuisance. How do I look?"  
  
"Too good for the likes of him."  
  
The doorbell ringing echoed through our bedroom. "There he is. TRY to at least be civil, okay?"  
  
"Hmmmpptth." And with that opinion of the situation, we both descended the staircase. I approached the door, straightened the skirt of my midnight blue dress, and took a deep breath before finally opening it.  
  
And there he was, looking just as handsome as the day he left for 'Nam. Oh, a few years older – who wasn't? – but still my Bingo. He was wearing a bright orange linen suit, white shirt, and Hawaiian print tie. I had never seen him so . . . colorful. He quickly evaluated me, as I had done with him, and smiled that devilish smile of his. "WOW! Beth, you look great."  
  
"Thanks, Al . . . so do you. Please, come in." I stepped back to let my ex-husband enter the house. "Can I take your coat?"  
  
"No, no . . . that's okay. I can't stay long."  
  
From behind me I heard a muttered, "Good." I ducked my head in embarrassment – he just couldn't let it go.  
  
"Ahh, Dirk." Al stepped forward and held out his hand. "Nice to see you again."  
  
Dirk just looked at down at the hand, and purposely ignored it, slipping his own hands into his pants pockets. "Spare me, Calavicci," he growled. "What the hell do you want with MY wife?"  
  
"DIRK!" I scolded my petulant husband, and turned back to my guest. "Please don't mind him, Al."  
  
"Never have, never will," he said with a definite attitude, the kind that used to get him into all sorts of trouble back at Annapolis.  
  
"Can we get you something to drink?" I asked, cordially.  
  
"Nah – I'm off the sauce."  
  
"Really?" I'm afraid my voice sounded more surprised than I wanted it to; Al had been a hard drinker for as long as I had known him.  
  
"Yeah. Nearly six months now," he said with decided pride. "Completely dry."  
  
"Al, that's wonderful!"  
  
Another muttered comment from behind us. "'Bout time."  
  
I spun around and glared at my soon-to-be-second-ex-husband if he didn't shape-up. "Actually, Dirk, *I* could use a drink," I told him sweetly, and jerked my head towards the rec room, where the bar was located, just so he'd get the idea.  
  
He just glared right back at me and replied, sarcastically, "Sure, DEAR. I'll be right back."  
  
"I apologize for Dirk, Al . . . ."  
  
"Don't. If my beautiful wife were talking to her still very sexy ex-husband," (I gave the requisite giggle), "I'd probably act the same way. Maybe worse."  
  
"Please, come and sit down."  
  
He shuffled his feet uneasily, "Nah . . . really. I can't stay long."  
  
"Just a few minutes, Al." I took his hand and led him into the living room. I watched him as he looked around, taking in the whole house, before having a seat on the sofa. Guess I was in the mood to live life on the edge tonight (or I was just still pissed with Dirk's behavior) as I took a seat right next to him.  
  
"You've had some work done since the last time . . . ."  
  
"Yes, we knocked down a couple of walls, added some skylights – built a pool for the kids." At the mention of them, he picked up a family photo on the end table.  
  
"They've gotten big, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I can hardly keep up with them anymore."  
  
"Where are they?"  
  
"Well, Kristen is upstairs, probably on the phone – I'm starting to think it's been glued to her ear. David's staying over a friend's house tonight. And Peter, well . . . " I shrugged my shoulders resignedly.  
  
"What's up with Peter?" he asked, concerned.  
  
My oldest, and most rambunctious. He wasn't a bad boy, just . . . energetic. Which usually got him into trouble. "He's at military school," I sighed.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"It was a decision we all made and he's doing very well," I defended myself. "They have the structure and discipline he needs. He's been talking about going to Annapolis when he graduates – wants to become a pilot."  
  
That got a hearty laugh from my ex. "Hot damn! I'm sure that's going up Dirk's ass width-wise!"  
  
I started to giggle. "Oh, Albert . . . you have NO idea."  
  
He placed the photo back on the table and released a deep, heartfelt sigh. "I couldn't have given you any of this, Beth. The house. The kids."  
  
Inching closer to him, I reached over and clasped his hand. "Maybe not the house, but we could have had children."  
  
Again the laugh. "ME? And kids?"  
  
"You would've been a wonderful father."  
  
Turning reflective, he sighed again. "Maybe. But I'll never know now."  
  
"What do you mean, Al?"  
  
Gripping my hand a little tighter, he smiled. "Beth, I just came here today to say good-bye."  
  
"Good-bye? Whatever do you mean?"  
  
"I'm leaving, Beth. It's time."  
  
"Time? What do you mean, 'time'?" Then I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong. He was sick or maybe . . . dying? That's what he meant by not having children. THAT'S why he was so insistent on seeing me. And now, oh God! Could he be thinking of taking his own life before the disease could? With panic in my voice, I stammered, "Al – you're not saying . . . you're not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?"  
  
He shrugged. "Depends what you call stupid."  
  
"You have a lot to live for, you know."  
  
Giving me an odd look, he began to ask, "You think I'd . . .?" Then a grand guffaw. Damn, I had forgotten how wonderful his laughter sounded. "Beth – if I was gonna do myself in, I woulda done it long before now."  
  
"So, you're okay? You're in good health?"  
  
"As good as can be expected, after everything I've put myself through. Why?"  
  
Now I was truly puzzled. "Then what's with all this goodbye stuff?"  
  
"Did I hear someone say goodbye?" my spouse said happily, as he entered the room carrying a martini.  
  
I yanked my hands away, guiltily, and Al turned his face away from the intruder. Whatever he was going to say, I knew I'd get nothing out of him as long as my husband was in the room. "Dirk, honey . . . it's not polite to drink alcohol in front of Al. Can I have a soda, please?"  
  
"But you said . . . ." I could tell he wasn't happy in the least. He glowered at the two of us and spun on his heel. "Fine. I'll be right in the next room." I saw him chugging the martini as he stormed out of the parlor.  
  
I turned my attention back to Al; he was smirking at me. "That wasn't very nice, Beth."  
  
"He deserved it. Now, you were saying . . .?"  
  
He clasped his hands on his lap, and hesitated a moment before admitting, "I found someone, Beth. Someone special. And we're going to be moving out of California."  
  
I sat there stunned – happy, and yet . . . what? Disappointed? Why? That I was no longer the most important woman in his life? Sure, he had remarried numerous times since our divorce, but he never went out of his way to TELL me about his relationships. This one must've been pretty significant for him to be here. And what did he mean when he said, 'moving out of California'? He'd lived in California ever since he returned from the war, in the same house we had once shared. "Oh my God! Al, that's great! Where are you going?"  
  
"Indiana," he grinned. "We're moving to a farm in Indiana."  
  
I couldn't help the snickers. "YOU?!? A farmer?! Now THAT'S a visual!"  
  
Joining in the joviality, he gave me his trademark, "Kick in the butt, huh? Actually, we're just going there to get away for a little while. Make some plans for the future. Rest a bit – relax. Just be together before 'real life' interferes again."  
  
"And Vegas isn't good enough?" I knew my Al, and all his vices.  
  
Shaking his head, he replied, "Not this time."  
  
"Sounds like you've finally found 'the one'."  
  
He flashed me a smile, more peaceful than any I had seen from him in years. "Well, I've done it enough times. 'Bout time I got it right . . ." he looked me right in the eye, ". . . again."  
  
I know I blushed – I could feel my cheeks heating up. "I'm so happy for you, Al, I really am, but . . . ."  
  
"But . . .?"  
  
"Well, no offense. I'm glad you're here, but . . . why couldn't you have told me this over the phone?"  
  
His hands reached up and clasped mine tenderly. I found myself gazing into those big brown eyes of his, the ones I could drown in . . . the ones I fell in love with a lifetime ago. "I had to see you one last time," he whispered.  
  
A very loud throat clearing broke the mood. "Your soda," Dirk announced, holding out a tall glass of Coke.  
  
I made to take it, then changed my mind. Shaking my head slightly, I whined, "Oh, Dirk . . . too many ice cubes. Do you mind . . .?" He left the room, muttering and swearing under his breath.  
  
"Beth, you shouldn't antagonize him like that," Al reprimanded me.  
  
"Can't help it. Sometimes he drives me to it."  
  
"The way I used to, huh?"  
  
I gave a chuckle. "Oh, no. NO one can push my buttons like you did."  
  
The chuckles were contagious. "We WERE pretty good together, weren't we, kiddo?" he said.  
  
"We certainly were. Never a dull moment, that's for sure."  
  
He grew quiet, and began playing with the cuff of his jacket. He used to do the same thing with his uniform, when he was nervous. I gently placed my hand on his forearm, and asked softly, "Al . . .?"  
  
Looking deep into my eyes, he saw the rest of my question. "You know, I'm real sorry, Beth."  
  
I smiled, "For what? Pushing my buttons?"  
  
"No, for being such a nozzle to you. I never treated you like you deserved. I took you for granted when we were married, then, when I got back from Nam . . . ."  
  
Squeezing his hands in mine, I silenced him, "Al, honey, it's okay."  
  
"No, it wasn't. God, I hated you, Beth." I gasped at his unexpected confession and he turned his head, looking away from me. I guess I always knew how he felt, but he had never before come out and said the words. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, and turned back to face me; when I saw all the pain in his eyes, I hated MYSELF.  
  
"I was so hurt, and angry, and scared," he continued. "I felt so betrayed. And I took it out on you and your family all these years. I had no right to deny you your life – resent you for moving on. I was very wrong to do that."  
  
Yes, he had hurt me and my family over the years, but not half as much as I had hurt him. "It's over, Al," I told him, simply, trying to convince myself as well as him. "Water under the bridge."  
  
He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it softly before treating me to another one of his scampish smiles. "I suppose you're right. Time for us both to move forward, and get on with our lives."  
  
Footsteps on the hardwood floor announced the return of my husband. He held out the glass to me. "One Coke. No ice."  
  
"Dear, I didn't say NO ice. Just not as much ice as you had in the glass the first time."  
  
Dirk slammed the glass on the table, the contents splashing over the sides. "FINE! I'm outta here!" he bellowed, and stomped upstairs.  
  
"Geez, I thought he'd NEVER get the hint," I muttered.  
  
"Elizabeth Anne Simon," Al chuckled. "You are still one hot little shit."  
  
"From you, I'll take that as a compliment."  
  
"As you should." Pulling his hands from mine, he exhaled a deep breath, and sighed, "Well . . . I better get going. My ride's waiting outside."  
  
"Already? But you just got here. Why don't you invite her in? I'd love to meet the woman who's turned your life around."  
  
"I'm sorry, kid, but there's just not enough time." He stood up, and brushed down his suit jacket. "We're on our way to the airport."  
  
"Oh. That's too bad." And it was, too. I was truly sorry to see him leaving. It'd been such a long time since I had heard his voice, saw his face – enjoyed his laughter. That was one thing he could always do . . . he made me laugh like no other.  
  
I rose as well, and walked him to the front door. As I opened it, he turned to me and remarked, "Listen, Beth, there's one last thing I want to say to you."  
  
"You're very talkative tonight," I teased. "What is it?"  
  
"Thank you," he said, solemnly.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For saving my life. Many, many times."  
  
I just stared at him. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Al."  
  
Those eyes. I felt myself drowning once more looking into them. "When I was gone, during the war, thoughts of you kept me sane and alive. You did so much for me, Beth – more than you could ever know. And for that, I'm eternally in your debt."  
  
I don't know where all the tears came from all of a sudden, but I had no chance of stopping them. "Oh, Al," I sobbed. "I wish things could have been different."  
  
He cupped my face tenderly, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "So do I, sweetheart. But, we'll always have our memories of Niagara Falls."  
  
I smiled through my tears. "If it could have always been like that."  
  
"Yeah, I know." A horn tooted outside. "That's my cue. I gotta go."  
  
"Promise me you'll keep in touch, Al."  
  
He pulled me in for a quick kiss on the lips, which turned slightly more intense, then quite passionate. A small sob caught in my throat as the years melted away, and I was suddenly back in the arms of the brash new ensign the night of our first date. I fell in love with Al Calavicci that night – and I never really stopped.  
  
Al was the one who broke the kiss, showing remarkable restraint, and he caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. "I'll always love you, Kitten."  
  
I shook my head with a small grin. "Do you know no one's called me Kitten since . . . ."  
  
"And no one better call you Kitten except me," he interrupted.  
  
I gave him a big smile. "Agreed."  
  
With a final pat on my cheek, he turned to go, but halted in the doorway. "By the way, Beth . . .?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
He tilted his head – sadness in his eyes even as a smile crossed his face. "I forgive you."  
  
No explanation was needed. I knew what I was being forgiven for . . . now if I could ever forgive myself. "Thank you," I said, with true gratitude.  
  
I watched as he walked out the door, and practically skipped down the stairs towards the idling Jeep in the driveway.  
  
**AL:**  
  
As I climbed into the Jeep, I glanced up and noticed my beautiful Beth watching me from the opened front door. It was bathing her in bright light from the hallway behind her, making her look for all the world like an angel.  
  
"Did you have a nice visit?" the angel sitting beside me asked, curious and concerned.  
  
Strapping myself into the seat belt, I answered, "Uh-huh. Very productive."  
  
"Are you sure this time, Al?" my companion queried, understanding how difficult this trip was for me, and how I had been dreading seeing her again for weeks. But it was something that had to be done. For closure, as they say.  
  
She had stepped out onto the porch, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, and I could see the fresh tears running down her cheeks – the same ones that stung my eyes. "Yeah. It's over. I . . . I finally forgave her."  
  
Warm, sweet lips claimed mine in a possessive kiss. "I love you so much, Al. And I'm very proud of you."  
  
I ran my hand down the face that had become so precious to me I was ready to burn every bridge I had to the past. "I love you too, Sam."  
  
And we drove away into the night.

  
  
**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> FOOTNOTES:  
> 1\. "The One You Love", by Glenn Frey.


End file.
